The Potter Effect
by Phoenix-Flower92
Summary: Harry Potter gets a job cooking fries at Wizburger and Malfoy makes sure the scarface really works for his money. Then, Harry and Co. pay a little visit to Malfoy's work place for an even worse revenge.
1. The Potter Effect

A/N: This story spun-off following a little visit to McDonald's in which I saw my sister's enemy working with the fries. After trying the fries, I complained that they were too salty. My sis explained that it was just the 'enemy effect'. So the line, 'Potter Effect' is sort of an inside joke. The visit inspired a conversation about Harry working at a place like McDonald's and Draco ordering a ton of fries. So on a boring, last day of school I wrote this. Enjoy, Read & Review.

"King beats Queen! I win!" Blaise Zabini happily shuffled his deck of cards and began collecting mine.

"No fair!" I complained. "I don't know the first rule about card games. You cheated, anyways!"

Blaise smiled slyly, "Dude! I'm a Slytherin! I **never** play fairly," he explained as I tried to hold my cards from him.

Somehow, he found a way to collect all the cards I'd been hiding from him. Just as we were about to play a different game (not involving those annoying cards), Hector Avery burst into the dorm. "You guys!" he smiled. "Guess who has a job at Wizburger down at Hogsmeade?"

"Crabbe or Goyle," I guessed without thinking.

"Even better!" Hector grinned.

"You!" Blaise shrugged.

"Nope! I hate cooking food! Besides, I work as cashier up at Potion Poisons—you know that!"

"Let me guess—you got US jobs up there!" I asked coldly.

"Wrong again—you guys! There are awful jobs up at Wizburger! Why would I want to give you that embarrassing reputation?"

"Well, then—WHO?" I demanded.

"It starts with an H and wears really cheesy glasses…"

"Harry Boxterzantaz!" Blaise shouted suddenly.

"What?" I questioned, wondering if Blaise was really all there.

We all looked at him oddly. "You know—that really geeky 1st year that's muggle-born and still thinks he has to tape his ugly glasses togeth—I'm wrong, aren't I?"

Hector rolled his eyes, "Way off track, mate, way off."

"W-well then, who?" Blaise asked.

"Harry Potter," Hector revealed.

We all began to laugh. "You know what?" I asked, "Suddenly I'm starving for some food at Wizburger! Who want to go take pictures of little scar-boy slaving away and sweating like crazy in a kitchen? We could so get a lot of dirt on him!"

We all agreed. "So, what's his job there?" Blaise questioned.

"He cooks the fries!"

We laughed even harder at this as we stumbled down to Hogsmead, still laughing even as we got there. This was so bloody brilliant. Who hired him? I could totally kiss them on the bloody lips for giving him such an embarrassing job! I bet he doesn't get paid much—probably three knuts an hour to be humiliated in front of his peers. Ha! Ha! Ha!

As we entred the shop, I leaned over to Blaise. "Remember, man," I whispered, "Do **NOT** order any fries."

Blaise nodded and winked, giving me a high-five. "I got ya, man, no problemo!" he said as he walked up to the counter.

"I'll take _three_ orders of french fries!" he smiled broadly.

My mouth dropped. "Blaise—you said you understood me and now your--"

"Relax, Draco! The more we order, the more he has to work for his money, and the more pictures we can take," he winked again as I caught on quickly.

I too, walked up to the counter. "I'll take _100_ orders of french fries."

I laughed so hard I could barely get the sentence out. This got me another high-five from Blaise as Hector fell to the floor in laughter. "I—I want--"

He couldn't get his sentence out either. "T—ten—ten--"

Blaise understood enough. "My friend will take ten orders of fries. We're a hungry group of people. Haven't eaten in weeks. So, you know…don't worry. We've got the money."

The lady behind the counter nodded. "As long as you can pay for what you order, it's cool."

By then, all three of us were on the floor, and other people ordering were forced to step over us to get over to the counter. We were tickled to death that the lady was allowing us to order so many fries. Altogether we bought 113 orders!

We slowly stood up to watch the already sweating Scarface beginning to salt about a dozen fries and shove them into a small Wizburger bag. When he looked at his next order, we saw his mouth drop as his cold eyes shot right over to us. Too bad we were already on the floor laughing again…

Two hours later, our order was finally ready. "I'm going to complain about the service being way tooo slowww…" I whispered to Blaise, making sure I said the words 'too' and 'slow' as if I myself were being put into slow motion.

Blaise nodded, a smile forming in his lips again. It took a long time to bring all the trays of fries to our tables, because they took up nearly all of the shop. There were dozens of trays filled with fries, and they took up twelve tables in the restaurant!

The three of us sat at a table with only one tray and each took a bag of fries. I tasted one and almost spit it out. "Gross—these are _too_ salty! Yuck—they don't taste right—do you guys agree?" I asked.

"Yum—I think they taste fine!" Blaise said.

"I like a lot of salt," Hector shrugged.

"Don't worry bro, I know what you're suffering from," Blaise smiled.

"What?" I questioned.

"No biggie—just The Potter Effect!"

A/N: I'm currently writing a second chapter which will feature Harry Potter's revenge against Draco, the cashier at Potion Poisons. (That is if you like this story).


	2. The Frymaker's Revenge

"Blaise! How many times do I have to bloody tell you—I hate card games!" I shouted at the top of my lungs, angrily forcing all my cards into my best friends lap.

I crossed my arms, hoping to finally get the message through Blaise's thick skull. "Why?" he fussed, making a pout face as he bent down on the floor to collect all the card I threw that originally were supposed to land on his lap.

I rolled my eyes, as if the answer were obvious. "Because," I scowled, "It's a boring way to pass time, it's hard, and it's—eew—muggle!"

I shuddered shaking off my hands from where I had held them. "Not all card games are muggle," Blaise assured me. "It's probably just this set—anyway, my cousin Zach is a clean, normal muggle. If I'd told you that Zach were a wizard when he gave me these, you'd probably love card games."

I shook my head. "No, I wouldn't—not even if Zach were a pureblood, mate!"

Blaise gave me The Look. "Fine!" I shrieked. "You win! But the fact is, Zach is a muggle, and he gave you those cards for Christmas from, let me remind you, a muggle shop. Therefore, they have muggle germs! Eeew!"

I shuddered again, and my friend looked disappointed. "That's so immature, D'man! You do this every time I ask you to play cards!" he whined.

I nodded—it was true. "There's a solution to that, though," I told him. "Don't ask me to play again."

Blaise shook his head hopelessly and sighed, about to mock me when Hector Avery—as he always did around this time of the game—burst into the room. "You **GUYS!**" he shrieked. "YOU ARE **SO **LUCKY YOU'RE OFF WORK TODAY—IN FACT I'M MAD AT YOU BECAUSE YOU **DO** HAVE A DIFFERENT SCHEDULE!"

Blaise and I exchanged clueless looks, as we both got jobs up at Potion Poison's only a week ago, with different working days and hours than Hector. Why was he mad? He knew it wasn't our fault and we had to take whatever schedule we were given to keep the job. "What's up, H man?" Blaise questioned in his rich Hispanic accent, "Everyone at Potion Poisons today got transferred over to Wizburger?"

Both Blaise and I burst out laughing, remembering a month ago when we went there and ordered 113 fries just to make the famous Harry Potter sweat like he had influenza. Hector did not join in on our joy, but instead stood with his hands on his hips, growling dangerously. "That's just **IT** guys! That's the problem!" he scowled, looking ready to kill.

"Oh!" I said. "I'm so sorry, Hector. I just can't believe you were fired from Potion Poison's to work for Wizburger…pity really…"

I felt bad for the guy—he loved Potion Poison's so much…it was a good job—I loved it too. "Bummer," Blaise agreed.

Hector shook his head, frizzy black curls flying everywhere. "No! No, no, no—scratch that theory. Guys! I was doing awesome at Potion Poison's—you know that—but today…guys!"

He looked at both of us again and sighed loudly as if his life were over. Can you say Drama Queen? "Oh!" Blaise said, "You got fired from Potion Poison's, but didn't get hired for Wizburger because we ordered so much. The manager won't take you seriously. Lo mucho siento…it was me—I started the whole idea to order a lot…"

"NO…"

Hector was becoming more angry and impatient as time passed and we were still clueless. '_Why doesn't he just tell us already?'_ I thought.

"Oh! DUH!" Blaise shouted, "I know! I know—you wanted some fries this afternoon after work, so you stopped by Wizburger where the manager explained that you could no longer purchase fries because of your foolishness a month ago!"

He smiled, proud of himself. Hector sighed again and once again shook his head. "You dudes are hopeless…" he mumbled under his breath.

"Well…what then?" I questioned, annoyed as the African-American plopped down at a table and laid his head down.

"Cheesy glasses, D'man…" he whispered.

Blaise lit up with another idea. "Harry Boxterzantaz? What'd he do, H? I'll beat him up for you, man—I've wanted an excuse to ever since he denied my advice to use magic instead of taping up his old, old glasses--"

"**BLAISE**!" Hector snapped his head up and glared at the annoying Latino before him. "Forget about Harry Boxterzantaz, dude! He's an idiot first year who has nothing against you, okay? There is, however, a different Harry who DOES have something against you and WILL be getting his revenge because he already did me."

At that moment, I knew whom Hector was talking about, but didn't have time to answer. Blaise cut me off. "Harry Taponiaaii?" He questioned uncertainly. "I only bumped into him once in the hall last year because I was in a major hurry—I didn't think he was mad about it and would be the type to hold a grudge…"

"What?" I questioned, really beginning to wonder if Blaise had a mental problem that needed attention.

Hector gave him the Death Look. "Blaise Zabini…" he growled. "Where the bloody hell do you hear about all these Harry's?"

"Easy," Blaise shrugged. "When you're an outcast, you know everybody because you can follow them without being noticed."

He rubbed his hands together evilly. "So, dude—if it's not Harry Taponiaaii, then—could it possibly be Harry Chansleiar? Harry Roserkan? Or is it a girl? Harriet Zan Tur Sleur Tolerll? Or hey—I bet it's--"

"**HARRY POTTER!** Duh! You are so blonde sometimes, Blaise! You don't even have blonde locks! Ugh! It's so bloody annoying!" Hector screamed.

Blaise crossed his arms. "That's what I was about to say," he mumbled under his breath.

"I knew it was Harry Potter," I said now that Blaise was finished guessing. "Now let me guess, Hector—Potter was mad at you for helping us order lots of fries, so he waiting until Blaise and I got jobs. Now that we're employed, he's getting his revenge. This afternoon while you were working. He got you, and tomorrow while Blaise and I are there, he's coming for us."

I smiled. "NO—He—Hey, wait! For once in your life, you're right," he sounded shocked.

I, too, had to admit I was shocked. "WOW!" I felt proud.

"Yeah—but dude--"Blaise interrupted. (The one thing he was good at.) "Hey, that's a big relief, man! I was worried that Harry Taponiaaii had anger issues or something, you know. That kid was real nice at the time I knocked him down—I apologized, and he didn't seem mad at all. So it didn't make sense that he'd all of a sudden be mad, right--"

"**SHUT UP, BLAISE!**" Hector bellowed. "You are getting on my last nerve…"

Blaise sat back in his seat, arms still crossed, not saying another word. It's not like he tries to be a dumb blonde. Still…he **WAS** being annoying. "Go on, Hector—what'd Potter do to you?" I questioned to end the terrible silence.

Blaise nodded to let him know he'd no longer interrupt. "Well…I was cashiering, ya know? Then Potter and Weasel came up to the counter with load and loads of potions, goodies, and food. Lot's of heavy items like 2-liters and items that are scan like flowers. Or rice because you have to unfold the label. Then they had, like—I think it was twelve bags—huge bags, mind you, of cat food. Those were heavy to lift, dude! There were 3 boxes of 24 bottles of water, which are even harder to lift--"

I winced. He wasn't kidding. Potter really **DID** give him a hard time. "AND, not to the weasel was on Potter's wiz-phone the entire time—do you know how annoying that is? I'm trying to be friendly, but I can't be because he's busy talking to someone else!"

"And while Weasel's chatting away, Potter's making sure the price on every item is correct. I had to send my bagger to the aisles five times because Potter was convinced the price was lower than I rang it up for. It took me a full hour to check them out—I had people leave my line because it was so slow!"

"I'm so sorry, Hector," I apologized.

"Yeah, well you're going to go through the same process or worse. That's what they said. Aye—I'm going to take a pill and go to bed—I have a major headache."

My stomach tightened. Is there any way I can pretend to be sick or something tomorrow? Oh, bugger…

A/N: _Okay, I know, I said this chappie would actually feature Draco cashiering, and I apologize for that—but never fear! Next chappie WILL be all about Draco, and I'm going to make sure by starting it out with him at Potion Poison's. Plus, there will be more chapters after the next one—who knows! Maybe Harry Boxterzantaz will make a special apperance! Stay tuned. And don't forget to Read and Review._


	3. Frymaker's Revenge Part II

**A/N: Hello again, everyone! Before we move on to the next chappie, I'd like to thank my two reviewers Kilikapele and Faery Ears for reviewing both of the previous chapters. Thanks so much, guys! You both are the reason I decided to not keep this a one-shot! Yay—virtual cookies to you both! **

**And now…fry-makers revenge II. Enjoy, Read, and Review.**

"No, Blaise! You know bloody good and well that I DO **NOT** wanna play Blackjack when I get off work today!" I hissed at lane twelve, directly in front of me where my Hispanic friend stood turned around, facing my direction because of his uncontrollable, over-pounding boredom.

Neither of us had customers to check out at that moment, though we usually never did. The manager at Potion Poisons seemed uncomfortable with putting us into big crowds, and therefore only worked us during the slowest parts of the slowest days. Isn't that mean? I think it is. I mean, it's not my fault that I'm slow at scanning items like fruits and vegetables. It's also not my fault that I have trouble using the phone to page a supervisor when someone is buying beer. I think that they gave me a broken phone anyway—I speak into it, but no one ever comes to help me. Maybe they hear, but hate me, therefore refusing to come over and help…you know what?

The manager should just throw us into the dogs—we would eventually get the hang of it and hopefully learn to use the phones. We'd get faster, too. That's what happened to Hector—he was thrown into the dogs, and within a couple of weeks he was as good as anyone else. I don't understand why he won't try that with Blaise and I. What makes us so incredibly different from Hector? Is it because he knows Hector is impatient about everything in life and we aren't? Who knows…

"Draco—what are you staring at?"

I immediately snapped out of my dazed state when I heard Blaise's concerned, loud voice. "Wha--? Staring? Me?" I questioned, completely unaware of how stupid I probably just looked as I brought my surrounding back into focus to see a very concerned and caring Hispanic teenager studying my actions.

"Yeah, dude—I asked you a question about cards, you, like, totally were unresponsive to me. What's on your mind? I've got time, whatever it may be."

I laughed—he was so desperate for entertainment. "It's nothing," I assured him, which was totally and completely true.

All I was thinking about was my job and how the manager treats us differently than Hector. "I just slipped into **THINKING WORLD**, where I reflect on boring life problems," I finished as he nodded, and then smiled.

"Okay, well now that your safely back on planet Earth, here's my question for the third time: Will you play blackjack IF I buy us a wizard deck when we get off today?"

"No!" I snapped without hesitation or even giving it a thought.

Blaise pouted at my quick decision. "¿Por favor? It'll give me something to look forward to after this! I won't bug you again, I promise. Please man? I'm so bored right now!"

"No," I repeated. "I've told you, I'm not into that. I'd rather be outside in the sun playing Quidditch. You'd be better off asking Harry Boxtrusandas to play with you."

"Actually, Draco, it's Harry Boxterzantaz. Learn to pronounce people's last names correctly dude, if you're gonna talk about 'em. And there is no way I'd ask that stuck-up moron to play cards. He'd annoy me the whole time—I wouldn't have any fun!"

I rolled my eyes. Blaise and that Boxter—whatever may have more in common than they want to admit. First things first: they're both bloody annoying. They also are both completely unaware of the fact that they're annoying…hmm…no wonder they hate each other. They both annoy each other to death. "Blaise," I said. "If you hate Boxter—whatever so much, why can't I butcher his name?"

"Because—you just can't okay? It gets on my nerves."

I sighed. "Whatever. Anyways, Blaise if you're _so_ bored, why don't you clean your mirror to pass the time?" I questioned, referring to his register, or scanner.

There are so many ways to refer to objects around here…it's …man, I'm using this word a lot, but it's annoying! Why can't they just stick to one word? I mean really. Did you know that shopping carts can also be called baskets and bascarts? Who knew, right? I never knew until I was hired here, which is ridiculous. There should be a memo. I bet I'm not the **ONLY** clueless lad around here.

Blaise crossed his arms and stomped his foot, swirling back around to watch for a customer to enter his lane. Then he roughly grabbed a sanitizer wipe to do as I suggested. I kinda felt sorry for him since he didn't take boredom well, but he had to learn sometime. I sighed. "Guess I'll sign off," I mumbled to myself.

It's what the manager told us to go if we got to a point where we had no customers. As soon as I finished signing off, evil lurked into my lane. That's right—Potty and **THE** Weasel.

Just like Hector had told it, Weasel held Potty's Wiz-phone up to his ear, chatting away, and they bared tons and tons of items. Three huge carts full to be exact. No way was I doing this—I just signed off. "Sorry, losers," I smirked. "I just signed off. Go to a different lane. Perhaps Blaise's—he's really bored."

I crossed my arms and glared at the pair of them. "Now, now, Malfoy," Potty smiled. "I know you just signed off—you said you were—remember? When you mumbled '_Guess I'll sign off_ ', Ron and I waited by the edge of your lane so we could enter as soon as you finished. No need to be snooty about it. That's no way to treat customers, now is it? Just wait 'til we report you to management."

He winked and sighed with satisfaction. Him? Report me? I don't think so. I love this job too much. "Potty! I'm shocked! Why would you ever want me fired? You couldn't do this revenge-thing anymore and—wait!"

I suddenly had an idea. If I told him I wanted to be fired, he wouldn't report me because then he'd be letting me have my way. "What am I saying," I continued. "I hate this job! Its stupid and hard and a waste of my time! My phone doesn't even work! You want me fired? I say bring it, mate."

"And bring we shall," Potty replied slyly, slowly unloading the first cart onto the conveyor belt as I angrily signed back on.

All the while, Weasel was simply yakking away to what I suspected to either be Granger or some invisible, make-believe person he made up in his head. "Saturday? Oh, I don't know, baby-doll, I'm quite busy that day, but you know what? I think I can make room for you. I love watching romantic movies with you on Saturday nights while making out. Yes, I love you, too, sugar-lip doll-face!"

"What's that? Where am I? Oh, I'm in line at Potion Poisons, but its okay, Harry's with me, so he'll unload everything and make sure it's paid for. We can manage, babe. Uh, huh….yeah…oh…I can't wait…aww…how cute…"

The entire conversation was sickenly sweet, and I swear he was trying to mock the relationship between Pansy Parkinson and me. It wouldn't be so bad except for the fact that he was actually doing a good job at it.

I roughly scanned a canned good, placing it on the belt. Then a bag of rice, where I had to unfold the label in order to scan it. After a few more items, I had to wait for him, because the stupid git was still in the middle of unloading cart one. I bit my lower lip to hid my annoyance.

Once he added about ten items to the belt, he stopped to take a break—ugh! I'll have to wait again soon! "Shew!" he sighed dramatically, "I'm sweating—I just got off work, you see."

I rolled my eyes. '_Duh!_' I thought sourly. '_It's five o'clock—most jobs **DO** let off at that time!_'

"Anyways, I am **SO** wiped!" he continued as I scanned a mid-sized box of chicken, pretending to care about his life.

"Oh—that price isn't right," Potty pointed at the computer. "The sign in aisle ten said chicken was three sickles not four."

I rolled my eyes and looked for aisle ten. Today I didn't have a bagger, so I borrowed Blaise's, Cash Wilson, who, of course, wasn't occupied at all. "This lad is convinced chicken is three sickles and not four. Go check in aisle ten, okay?" I asked.

Cash nodded and jogged over to the aisle I asked him to check. When he returned, I was the right one—it was four and not three. Potty didn't even apologize. The nerve of him…

"That's an extra sickle out of my pocket…" he mumbled, adding the last of the items in cart one up to the counter because I stood once again waiting for them.

"Of course I loved it when we kissed non-stop for ten full minutes last week…ooh…do it again? Baby, you know it!"

The sickenly sweet mood of Weasel mixed with the tired and angry mood of Potter really didn't make good results. And when you add my sour mood into the mix, it creates an unhappy, awkward, and frustrated situation that no one would dare mess with. I'm fairly sure that even if the manager walked by at that moment to see Potter and I glaring dangerously at each other, nothing would be said to me. At least not until later…

Anyways, matters didn't clear up anytime soon. I spent forever checking them out, hearing the same stupid lines. "That price isn't right!"

"Ooh…baby…your new dress sounds like it'll look hot on you…I can't wait to get out of her and see it…"

"That price isn't right!"

"Wow! You bought a puppy? Can't wait…but I'm telling you, this cashier we have is **NOT** good at his job…"

"That price isn't right!"

"Yes, exactly, sweetie, slower than a snail…"

We went through the whole 'Price is Wrong' process fourteen times, and soon Cash Wilson just transferred over to my lane and let Blaise bag on his own since his customers weren't nearly as worried about prices.

Two hours later, Potty had finally finished unloading the last of cart three, and was ready to pay. My arms were sore and my fingers were stiff from all the rice, chicken, cat food, evil twenty-four packs of coke and water, flowers, fruits and vegetables he had bought. I also had a headache and a nauseous feeling in the pit of my stomach from Weasel-King's non-stop sweetheart babble.

"Yes, Sugar-lips, I'm still in line at Potion Poisons. Unbelievable, eh, babe? At least I'd be been able to hear your beautiful voice all this time, otherwise…I don't know, cookie, I'd be on the verge of insanity…"

I growled, shaking with fury. "That will be eighty galleons and one knut, Potty!"

He shook his head and handed me dozens of coupons, most of which were expired or didn't apply to him because he didn't buy enough to use them. "That will be seventy-eight galleons and one knut," I said when I finished all the coupons.

"Can you knock off the knut? Most people do--"

"No! Seventy-eight galleons, one knut. You know what? Let's make it two knuts just for being a bloody pain!"

Cash shook his head. "You can't charge him any more than what the computer says—it's a rule. You break it and there are serious consequences."

I glared at Cash with hatred and rolled my eyes. "It was a joke!" I shrieked. "I'm kidding, Potty. It's still seventy-eight galleons and (cough) two (cough) knuts."

"**DRACO**!"

"Fine!" I cried with frustration. "Seventy-eight galleons, **ONE** knut. Happy?"

Cash nodded and I shot him another look that only made him snicker. Potter slowly took out his wallet, counting one piece of gold at a time. I sighed and drummed my fingers impatiently on the register/mirror/scanner. No wonder Hector came up to our dorm in such a grumpy mood yesterday! Don't worry; though…I'll make Potty pay that extra knut when we get back to Hogwarts…mark my word.

I smiled at this thought, but quickly replaced it when the boy-who-doesn't-play-revenge-fairly finished counting only to announce that he didn't have enough gold to purchase everything. I scowled, biting my lower lip. _Leave_ it to Potty to spoil a happy moment…bugger…

"Just take some items off. The only two things I wanna keep are the two cat foods that are brand _Cat Lovers_. Everything else I don't care," he explained.

"**WHY** can't you just tell me what to take off?" I growled at him.

He shrugged. "Because I don't care. It's too stressful for me anyway. I am, after all, famous. You wouldn't want to be responsible for stressing out the famous Harry Potter, now would you?"

His voice was soft and dangerous. My mouth dropped. "I'm famous, too! My father's big in the Ministry and I live in a mansion!" I pointed out.

"Yeah, but that's not as important. You're famous for your daddy. I'm famous because I'm un-killable to the Dark Lord. I made him go into hiding for years, remember? Oh, yeah, that's right—you're a follower of Voldy, sorry, how could I forget--"

"**SHUT UP**!" I screamed. (Perhaps just a little too loud)

I felt like giving up and throwing a major temper tantrum, but just yelling 'Shut Up' bought me a lot of odd looks. So instead, I took a few deep breaths, refusing to let some stupid Gryffindor tear me apart.

I almost removed a cat food from the brand _Kitten Sweet_ when Potty stopped me. "Oh—wait—I forgot. I want to keep that brand, too, put it back, sorry," he apologized as I stomped my foot and had Cash bag it back up.

I had to do the same thing after trying to remove a bag of cookies, a pack of gum, a box of owl food, a jug of milk, a toothbrush, a pair of shoes, and a leather jacket. "Is there anything **ELSE** you refuse to remove?" I hissed as Cash bagged the leather jacket up a second time. "Because everything I've tried to take off, you've denied me. Either pay up the gold total or stop being picky and let me take a few items off!"

Potty sighed and concentrated hard to remember everything he'd bought. "Fine…take off two 24-packs, three vases of flowers, the mittens…"

After removing nine-galleons worth of items, it was time to pay up for real. "Sixty-nine galleons, one knut, Potter. Care to try and change the price _again_? Because you've already made a dozen of customers in this line leave. Might as well make a few more!" I shrieked sarcastically, but he decided to finally pay.

I felt relief wash over me…I did it! I made it through Potty and Weasel's evil revenge! Until…

"Malfoy—don't tell me you bagged everything in plastic bags! Ugh—no! I won't take them. I need everything to be in paper bags. Switch them all over!" he demanded.

My headache returned as he said this and the Weasel informed his 'girlfriend' of it. "Sorry, cupcake, we **WERE** about to leave, but the idiotic cashier bagged everything up in plastic. What a moron! I mean really. Anybody whose anybody knows Harry Potter must have paper, not plastic!"

I glared at Potter for a moment, not believing my ears. "Paper, Malfoy. Step on it. I've got places to be!" he scowled.

"Wha--? No—you never told me--"

"You forgot to ask whether I wanted paper or plastic. I'm not supposed to have to tell you what I want. I'm afraid management isn't going to fancy me informing them of your neglected question."

He raised his eyebrows and smiled. My stomach dropped. He wouldn't—would he? "Fine," I said, "But if you get me fired, Potty, you're going to find yourself jobless as well. So watch what you're playing at. And by the way, this isn't _my_ fault—my bagger should've asked, not me--"

"Hey! I wasn't over here when you first started bagging items up, Draco! You're the one who used plastic, so I just continued it for you, assuming that's what these two gentlemen wanted!" Cash stood up for himself. "Just do as you're told, switch it all over, kindly, Draco, okay? I'd help, but my lane is becoming busy. It appears Blaise needs me back."

Cash waved and stepped over to assist my best friend, leaving me alone to this stupid job of transferring all the items from plastic to paper. Like it really matter what type of bag I use. I rolled my eyes.

I can't wait to return to Hogwarts tonight and make him pay that extra knut for being a pain…

**A/N: Umm…this chappie's REALLY long, I know, but it's also been a while since I updated, so…yeah. Anyways, I hope you liked this and I hope everybody will stay tuned because there's more to come! Find out what Hermione does for revenge to Draco while he's cashiering, and exactly who the geeky first year Harry Boxterzantaz is! Read and Review!**


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